


miss you, newt

by OnyxSphynx



Series: newmann one-shots [9]
Category: Pacific Rim (Movies)
Genre: Happy Ending tho, M/M, Not Pacific Rim: Uprising Compliant, Semi-Epistolary, kinda angsty, newt misses his physicist
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-11
Updated: 2019-02-11
Packaged: 2019-10-26 13:50:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 881
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17747057
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OnyxSphynx/pseuds/OnyxSphynx
Summary: Hermann's away lecturing overseas. Newt misses him.





	miss you, newt

**Author's Note:**

> for the anon prompt ""long-distance relationship" from the prompt list, but like, Hermann and Newt writing each other while one of them's away on a business trip or smth?"

Hermann’s away for a lecture at an overseas university; he left two days ago, and he’s scheduled to be back in five, but despite it, Newt misses him desperately. The flat feels empty without Hermann bustling around, and Newt keeps waking up in the middle of the night and wandering into the kitchen, expecting to find Hermann there making a late-night snack, expects to be able to wrap his arms around his boyfriend and press a soft kiss to the juncture of his neck, before the cold reality hits him, leaves him cold.

The third day, he gives in and pulls out his laptop, opens his email and hits  _Compose._

 _Herms_ , he starts, then backspaces. Too informal.  _Hermann_ , he tries, deletes that, too, and types  _Hermann, dude_ , instead. Alright. There’s the greeting.  _You can do this, Geiszler_. Breath in, breathe out. 

He stretches his fingers, nervous, and presses the enter key.  _How’re you doing? It’s lonely here without you._ No, that sounds clingy.  _I miss you_? No. Ridiculous. They’re  _dating_. He should be past this anxiousness by now. He deletes the entire thing, starts again.

 _Herms,_ he writes instead,  _I can’t concentrate without you here. The flat feels empty. But it’s fine! How’s the lecturing going? I bet the undergrads are stoked to get to listen to you,_ the _Doctor Hermann Gottlieb. Anyway, I miss you._

_xox your fav axolotl_

It’s an inside joke, from the time of their pen-pal days, but Newt treasures it regardless. He hits send, closes the laptop, and makes a cup of tea with a teabag, hears the ghost echo of Hermann’s scolding, and smiles.

After his class—only one today, Wednesdays are slow for him—he finishes his grading, shoves his stuff into his bag, and bikes back home. One of the perks of living in a small town—he doesn’t have to endure crazy traffic. The flat’s dark when he gets back, but he flicks on the lights, tries to push the sadness to the back of his mind.

He makes pasta and a basic spaghetti sauce, eats it while reading a chapter of  _Good Omens,_ and turns on his phone. There’s a few notifications on the lockscreen, and he scrolls through them, only half paying attention, before one catches his eye.

It’s a mail notification. Hope rising, taps it, enters in the passcode, and waits for the app to load.

He almost cries in relief when it reads  _From Hermann Gottlieb._ The subject-line is empty, but the email is long.

_Newt,_

_I confess, seeing your email was a welcome surprise. The first lecture went well—yes, there were multiple undergrads who asked for my signature on the way out, before you ask, but I said no—and the accommodations have been adequate. I miss you as well, though I doubt you needed me to say it as explicitly; how could I_ not  _miss you, darling? I miss laying next to you—the bed is cold without your furnace-like presence._

_Love,_

_Hermann_

The email is a mixture of formality and intimacies that is so much  _Hermann_ that it brings a smile to his lips. He taps reply.

_Herms,_

_Glad to know I’m useful for_ something _. Glad it’s going well. The students who take both of our classes have already started asking when you’ll be back. It’s weird—you’re like a cactus, dude, but they like you anyway._ He pauses, a wry smile at his lips, and adds,  _If that’s not a metaphor for our entire relationship, I don’t know what is._

_Miss you,_

_Newt_

The next three days pass in a similar fashion; he sends off an email to Hermann in the morning, gets through his classes, gets back to find Hermann’s reply. It almost feels like Hermann’s back.

Newt’s half-asleep in the over-stuffed armchair, blanket pulled over his legs, when the sound of a a key in a lock rouses him. The door creaks open, the soft sounds of feet on the carpet, and Newt’s heart thunders in his chest.

Carefully, he rises, grabs the vase off the side table, and creeps towards the door. “Whoever it is, I’m armed and I’m not afraid of defending myself!” he exclaims, and the noise stops.

After a second, the figure, hidden around the corner, says, “Newton, it’s me.”

“Hermann?” Newt questions, lowering the vase, “Hermann!” He turns the corner, flicks on the light. Hermann stands in the hall, blinking at the sudden brightness, pulling his suitcase in one hand, cane in the other.

With a laugh, he drops the vase, the glass bouncing slightly on the carpet. “Oh my god, dude, I’m so sorry,” he says, “I thought you weren’t gonna be back until tomorrow?”

Hermann shrugs, opens his arms for a hug. “The last lecture got canceled, so I figured I’d surprise you.” Newt clings to the other, breathes in the comforting scent of Hermann’s lavender body-wash that always manages to sink into his clothes.

“I missed you,” he says, muffled.

“I missed you as well, darling,” Hermann replies, softly, presses a kiss into his hair. “Come one—it’s getting late. Let’s get to bed.” 

With a smile, Newt grabs the suitcase, careful to avoid the vase, and presses a chaste kiss to Hermann’s lips, hands intertwined, and makes his way to the bed.


End file.
